


Educating Draco

by uniquepov



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rare Pairing, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniquepov/pseuds/uniquepov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin teaches Draco more than just Muggle Studies.</p><p><b>Prompt:</b> #213 - Justin is a muggle born who got served with the unfortunate, court ordered task of teaching Draco Malfoy muggle studies. He now has one year to teach Draco everything he needs to know. If Draco's beliefs haven't changed, he will get the Dementor's Kiss. Special requests: Stubborn!Draco, Exasperated!Disciplinarian!Justin, spanking?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Educating Draco

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [](http://rivertempest.livejournal.com/profile)[**rivertempest**](http://rivertempest.livejournal.com/), [](http://solas-divided.livejournal.com/profile)[**solas_divided**](http://solas-divided.livejournal.com/),[](http://deirdre-aithne.livejournal.com/profile)[ **deirdre_aithne**](http://deirdre-aithne.livejournal.com/) and [](http://pixmagic.livejournal.com/profile)[**pixmagic**](http://pixmagic.livejournal.com/) for being additional pairs of eyes, as well as for their support and encouragement!

_\--September 1998--_

Justin Finch-Fletchley stared dumbly at the woman standing before him. All the members of Dumbledore’s Army had been asked to assist the Ministry in rehabilitating some of Voldemort’s followers, and Justin had readily agreed, proud to be able to help protect his adopted world. As a Muggle-born wizard, his very future within this world had been at stake in the recent war. He did not intend to forget how close he, and others like him, had come to losing everything.

However, _this_ was bloody well _not_ what he had thought he was agreeing to.

“Sorry, Hermione, I must have misheard you. Whom did you say I’ll be working with?”

Hermione Granger brushed an errant curl from her face with an impatient huff.

“Draco Malfoy,” she repeated, slowly and carefully, her tone every-so-slightly mocking.

Justin closed his eyes and gave a brief sigh. He knew his behaviour in the DA had not entirely endeared him to the other members. As a fellow Muggle-born, he had appealed to Hermione, trying to explain that he had been motivated by the fear of losing this wondrous world they were only just beginning to understand. She had been sympathetic, even kind, and had thanked him for his assistance in the rehabilitation programme. Now, he began to wonder if that had all been a ruse. His assignment certainly felt like retaliation.

“Why me?” he asked now, without opening his eyes.

“Why not, Justin? I’ve reviewed both your files; you’ve had remarkably similar upbringings, despite the obvious. I think you’re one of the best possible options we have.”

He let out another long-suffering sigh and opened his eyes again.

“Isn’t Malfoy in Azkaban?” he asked quietly.

Hermione nodded. “The Ministry hasbeen renovating the prison to be more humane, as well as installing meeting rooms where you can interact with your assigned prisoner. We’ve also connected it to the Floo here in the Rehabilitation Office, to make travel easier.”

Justin stood. “I – I’m going to have to think about this, Hermione. I’ll let you know.” With that, he left the office and a thoughtful-looking Hermione behind.

Stepping outside into Diagon Alley, he blinked against the uncharacteristic brightness of the sunny September day. Despite the warmth and sun, he shivered as he left the Ministry offices behind and headed to the Leaky Cauldron, crossing immediately to the bar.

“Ogden’s, please, Tom,” he told the barkeep. “Make it a double.”

Taking his drink, he buried himself in a dark corner of the pub and rested his head against the high wooden back of the bench. Of all the people he could have been told to help, why did it have to be Draco _bloody_ Malfoy? There was no question of his accepting the assignment, of course. Such a high-profile prisoner would only serve to increase his own standing. If he succeeded, the wizarding world would laud his rehabilitation of one of their pure-blood scions; if he did not, they would applaud his efforts. There was really no way to lose, except by getting emotionally involved.

Which was exactly what he was afraid of.

“The one man on the _planet_ that makes me weak-kneed and of course, that’s who I wind up with,” he groaned into his glass. “Can’t anything ever be easy?”

***

Later that evening, he gazed morosely into the fireplace in the front room of his London flat. After much internal debate and soul-searching, along with copious amounts of Ogden’s Finest, he had finally made up his mind. Crossing to the desk, he scrawled a note and sent it off to Hermione.

He threw himself back into his chair with a grimace, sincerely hoping that he knew, fully, what he’d gotten himself into.

_\--October 1998--_

The blond wizard did not raise his head when Justin entered the meeting room and sat down. Justin nervously ran a hand through his hair.

“Good morning, Draco.”

“Is it?” came the toneless reply.

Justin frowned. “Draco, are you quite well?”

The Slytherin raised his head for the first time, sneering. “What the fuck do you care, _Mudblood_?”

Drawing himself up indignantly at the slur, Justin’s expression became frosty. “Malfoy, I am your Ministry-appointed rehabilitation counsellor. It is my job to teach you Muggle Studies and _attempt_ to assist you in adjusting your attitude towards those who are not pure-blood. Surely your liaison from the Wizengamot explained this to you?”

Draco went back to staring at the floor. “She did,” he acknowledged. “You’re wasting your time.”

Justin raised an eyebrow at the blond. “Are you refusing your session?”

“I have appealed my sentence,” Draco said with a shrug. “I feel these sessions are superfluous, until the appeal is decided.”

He continued to stare at him and Draco continued to stare at the floor.

“Very well, then,” Justin snapped. “Sorry to have wasted both our time.”

He stood from the table, studying Draco for another long, silent moment, before turning on his heel and heading for the exit.

***

Justin stalked from the Floo into the Rehabilitation Office, past the assistants and secretaries and barged into Hermione’s office without so much as a knock.

“Justin?” Hermione’s voice was calm and solicitous. Only a slight tightening of her hands on her desk betrayed her annoyance at his intrusion. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, you could bloody well say that,” Justin retorted. “I’ve just come from Azkaban.”

“Ah,” she sighed. “What did Malfoy do now?”

“Do? Nothing,” Justin replied. “Other than inform me that his case is being appealed and consequently, my services are not necessary.”

The brunette witch looked up sharply. “Malfoy told you he was appealing his court case?”

She looked so startled that Justin paused and tried to remember the blond’s exact words. “He said, that he had appealed his sentence and that the lessons were superfluous until the appeal was decided.”

Groaning, she kneaded her forehead with her hands.

“Hermione, why the hell was I assigned to Malfoy if his case is still being appealed?”

“It isn’t,” she said quietly.

He stared at her. “But, Malfoy said…”

“You had better sit down, Justin,” she told him. “I suspect that this is going to be a difficult conversation.”

Brow furrowed, Justin sat, facing her across the desk.

“Malfoy’s conviction is not eligible for appeal,” she said quietly.

His confusion deepened. “So he lied—“

Hermione held up a hand to forestall him. “Technically, he did tell you the truth. He is appealing his sentence.” Justin regarded her silently, waiting for an explanation. “He has asked the Wizengamot to have the Kiss administered immediately, rather than go through the rehabilitation process.”

“He _what_?” he shouted, jumping to his feet.

“According to him, he is just as guilty as his mother. Since Narcissa Malfoy was not given the option of rehabilitation, he states he should be treated the same way.”

Dumbfounded, he protested, “But, Harry testified for her!”

She lowered her voice. “Justin, what I am about to tell you must not leave this room.” She waited for him to nod his understanding, before continuing, “Based on Harry’s testimony, Narcissa _was_ offered a chance at rehabilitation. She refused, choosing to receive the Kiss only days after her husband.”

An unexpected ache settled in his chest at that bit of news. “So – both of his parents –“

“Are, for all intents and purposes, gone,” she confirmed. “The Wizengamot felt that her sacrifice allowed her the right to make her final choice. They do not, however, feel that Draco is in the proper mental state to do the same.”

Watching the former Hufflepuff, she felt a smidgeon of pity for the position he found himself in, as he dropped his head backwards to glare at the ceiling and expel a long, exasperated breath.

“Please, Justin, just go back as normal for your next session. We have no intention of allowing Draco to commit suicide by proxy,” she reassured him.

Justin chewed his bottom lip in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. “Hermione, I don’t know if I can help him.” After a moment, he straightened. “But I’ll do everything I can.”

***

Twice a week for two more weeks, Justin arrived at the meeting room in Azkaban to find Draco glaring at the floor, or a spot on the wall, and pointedly ignoring him. It reminded him strongly of their school days, except that, back then, Draco hadn’t had to work at ignoring him. At Hogwarts, the blond had never bothered with him one way or the other; as a Muggle-born Hufflepuff, he was certain Draco had considered him to be beneath his notice. Draco hadn’t known he existed at school and he hardly acknowledged his existence now.

Slogging through the Ministry-approved curriculum, he was somewhat desperate to find something that would appeal to the Slytherin and dissuade him from his morbid course of action, despite the overwhelming lack of participation from the blond wizard seated opposite him.

The session today was exactly like the five prior sessions. Justin looked up from his papers to see Draco staring at a point on the wall somewhere behind him. His breath hitched as he contemplated the silvery gaze. How often had he dreamed of a future with this man, their eyes meeting across a table and hands clasped as they sat side by side? _A schoolboy crush,_ he told himself firmly. _Nothing more._

Justin’s heart broke every time he left a session without a breakthrough. Despite his best efforts, the blond steadfastly refused all his efforts towards rehabilitation. The Wizengamot had refused his appeal, as Hermione had promised, but Draco was adamant that he was not interested in anything other than the oblivion promised by the Dementor’s Kiss.

_\--December 1998--_

Twice a week, every week, Justin sat across from the recalcitrant wizard and tried to interest him in learning about the Muggle world. Twice a week, every week, Draco ignored him.

On this Monday afternoon, however, on the eve of the winter solstice, Justin’s patience was at an end. He slammed the textbook shut and pounded both fists on the table between them. “Merlin’s balls, Malfoy, what the hell is _wrong_ with you?”

Startled, Draco turned his gaze on the taller man now leaning over the table to hiss at him angrily.

“Do you _want_ to have your soul taken? By the gods, man, I am trying to _help_ you, but you have to be willing to help yourself, as well!” Panting slightly, Justin sank back into his seat and rested his forehead on his hands.

Draco’s voice, raspy with disuse, broke the interminable silence. “Why do you care?” He sounded tired and resigned. “What does it matter?”

“It matters. _You_ matter, Draco,” he said softly.

Draco returned his gaze for the span of a few seconds, before resuming his focused examination of the tabletop. “I no longer matter,” he said. “The war has seen to that.”

“What are you on about?”

The last Malfoy gave an elegant shrug. “I have nothing left; my parents are gone, the Manor destroyed, our fortunes seized by the Ministry. Most of my friends are dead or imprisoned. What, exactly, do you think I have to live for?” His voice was toneless and flat, utterly devoid of emotion.

Blinking hard, Justin impulsively laid his hand on Draco’s arm. “How about …a future? The entire magical world, preserved?” He broke off as the blond shook his head dismissively. “…Love?” Justin whispered uncertainly.

Draco turned his face away.

“Children’s stories,” he choked out, “and I am no longer a child.”

***

Stumbling out of the Floo, Justin practically ran to Hermione’s office, pushing the door open and bursting into the room as though pursued.

“Justin!” Hermione exclaimed. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

He gave her a brief sketch of the session he’d just had with Draco. “He doesn’t want to live, Hermione,” he concluded. “He needs to see a Healer.”

She was surprised to see him fighting back tears as he recounted his session with Draco. Obviously, the young wizard was deeply empathetic towards Malfoy, not to mention clearly upset with the turn the conversation had taken that day.

“He’s refused Healer visits in the past, Justin,” she told him gently.

“I don’t bloody care what he’s refused!” he shouted angrily. “He needs help!”

Hermione regarded him for a long moment, then nodded.

“Alright. I’ll arrange it.”

***

On Christmas Eve, Justin arrived at the meeting room slightly out of breath. Draco did not acknowledge him as he dropped into his seat, straightened his notes and began the lesson. As he highlighted some of the modern-day advancements that Muggles used in lieu of magic, he let his attention wander.

He knew that the prison officials were trying to make Azkaban a more humane place, ensuring the prisoners had heat, liveable conditions and adequate nutrition. He also knew that the Ministry had even organized a meagre feast for the prisoners for the next day.

That hadn’t stopped him from needing to make this small gesture, however. Malfoy’s words from earlier that week still haunted him. He was determined to help the broken wizard find _something_ to live for.

When the lesson was over, he closed his books and pulled them into a stack. Instead of rising to leave as usual, however, he sat facing Draco. He regarded him silently, hoping against hope that what he was about to do was the right thing.

Removing a small wrapped package from the pocket of his robes, he placed it gently on the table in front of Draco. The blond looked from it to him in frank surprise.

“Open it,” Justin told him gently.

Draco stared at the gaily wrapped package for a long moment, before unwrapping it with trembling fingers.

A small seashell nightlight, charmed to glow a soft yellow, lay nestled in the tissue.

Justin cleared his throat awkwardly. “You can turn it on and off with an incantation – no wand needed. Or you can just leave it on all the time; it won’t burn out.” Draco bowed his head, resting his elbows on his knees. Justin continued, “I just thought it would be something to bring you a little hope. Happy Christmas, Draco.”

Malfoy lifted his head and Justin was surprised to realize that the blond was blinking back tears. He opened his mouth several times, only to close it without speaking, before finally asking, “Why?”

He lost himself in those pewter eyes for far too long, before rousing himself to answer. “So you’d know that there’s someone who cares about you.”

Long after the embarrassed wizard had fled back to the Ministry offices, Draco sat alone in the meeting room, staring thoughtfully at the glowing shell.

_\--March 1999--_

Twice a week, every week, Justin continued to try to teach Draco Muggle Studies. Since Christmas, the difference was that the instead of ignoring him, Draco seemed to use their lesson time to study _him_.

For the third time that morning, Justin looked up from his lecturing to see Draco staring directly at him. He faltered under the silver gaze, his words stumbling to a halt.

“Draco –“

The blond cut him off. “Why?”

Confused, Justin knit his eyebrows together and asked, “Why, what?”

“Why do you _care_? What do you want from me?”

Lust flashed across his face before he could school his expression. “I don’t want anything, Draco, honestly; just to see you freed and living your life.”

Draco snorted. “What life?”

Justin licked his lips nervously. “Finding someone to love, settling down. Having some peace and contentment.” The taller wizard paused. “We all deserve that.”

Draco gazed at him contemplatively.

“Do we?” he asked, almost too softly for Justin to hear.

_\--June 1999--_

Twice a week, every week, Justin sat in a meeting room in Azkaban Prison, trying to teach the prescribed lessons in spite of Draco’s obvious attempts to distract him. Lately, he felt as though the other wizard was trying to seduce him, but surely that was his imagination and wishful thinking.

The blond leaned forward to rest his hand on Justin’s as he tried to explain a map of the London Underground.

“Justin.” Draco’s voice stopped him cold. “I’ve just thought of something about Muggles that I am _very_ interested in learning about.”

“What’s that?”

The blond leaned toward him, across the table. “Is Muggle sex any different than wizard sex?”

The Hufflepuff blushed profusely. “I hardly think that that’s suitable-“

“I only have a few more months,” Draco interrupted quietly. “I’d like to have a little fun, before I go.”

The words, no doubt calculated to play on his sympathies, as well as his undeniable attraction to Draco, actually had the opposite effect. Justin slammed the book shut, pushed back from the table and began pacing.

“Damn it, Draco! You could have a couple centuries left, if you’d only cooperate!”

Draco pushed back from the table himself, perching on the edge as he replied, “I could have some fun now, if only _you’d_ cooperate.”

Justin growled in frustration. “Merlin! I have half a mind to turn you over my knee and _spank_ some sense into you!”

Something indefinable flared in Draco’s eyes, but he said only easily, “If that’s the type of foreplay you prefer, I could be amenable to that.” He smirked at Justin’s gobsmacked expression.

“Draco—“ the dark-haired wizard began. “No. Not here.”

“Well, I’m afraid my options are somewhat limited for locales. We could retire to my cell…” He trailed off at the devilish look stealing across Justin’s face.

“Not in Azkaban. Ever,” Justin declared staunchly. As the blond’s expression turned thoughtful, he tried to hide his widening smile. It appeared he may have just given Draco as reason to start learning Muggle Studies.

_\--August 1999--_

Justin let out a whoop of excitement as he finished correcting Draco’s Muggle Studies exam. Malfoy had passed with flying colours. The dark-haired wizard scooped Draco up in his arms and spun him around.

“You did it! You passed!” Justin exclaimed excitedly.

Draco smiled indulgently. “Put me down, you oaf.”

He set the blond down, still grinning like a loon. “I’ll bring these right over to Hermione. They’ll expedite your pre-release hearings.”

“Couldn’t I just sneak out under your cloak?” he teased good-naturedly. Justin grinned but shook his head, while Draco smirked suggestively. “Too bad.”

***

Justin was there when Draco was finally released from Azkaban, having arranged for the blond wizard to stay with him, whilst sorting out what, if anything, remained of the Malfoy empire. He smiled at the unrestrained joy on Draco’s face as he was presented with his wand, which had been in Ministry custody for over a year.

Taking a firm hold on Draco’s elbow, he Apparated them both to the entryway of his flat. He showed Draco to the spare bedroom he’d kitted out for his guest and then left him, allowing the other man a chance to process his feelings over finally being free.

Bustling into the kitchen to make tea, Justin had just heated the kettle, when he heard Draco behind him.

He turned around and all thoughts of tea fled. Draco stood before him in black slacks and a white button down shirt open at collar and cuffs, his feet bare on the tile floor.

“Draco?” Justin faltered.

“Justin,” the blond countered. “Are you quite well?”

The other wizard’s breath hitched as he recognized his own words turned back on him.

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you,” Draco said quietly.

“That’s n-not necessary,” Justin stammered. “I was Ministry appointed, remember?”

“A Ministry –appointed _volunteer_ ,” Draco corrected. “But in any case, it’s not the lessons I want to thank you for.”

Justin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Then, what—?“ The rest of his question was silenced by Draco’s lips on his own.

“For giving me a reason to hope,” Draco whispered against his lips.

Fisting his hand in the longish hair at the back of Draco’s head, Justin curled the other around his waist to pull the blond tightly to him. He pressed his lips to Draco’s with at least a decade’s worth of sexual frustration behind him. The blond melted into his embrace, allowing Justin to control the kiss without question.

Justin pulled away and cleared his throat. “I promised myself we’d take things slow,” he managed shakily.

Draco smiled. “A year wasn’t enough?” he teased.

Justin laughed. “You have a point.”

“Besides,” the blond stood on tiptoe to whisper into Justin’s ear. “You promised me a spanking.”

***


End file.
